.exe

  I licked my cracked lips, eyes darting about the room. “I’m sorry?”

  “Your father was going to remarry, wasn’t he?”

  I shrugged again in an impatient yes. Brisbois’ arms fell to his sides. “It was possible that he may have had another child. And even if he didn’t, one could presume a sizeable portion of the estate would go to the new Mrs. Hale.”

  “I suppose. Look, what exactly are you asking me?”

  “I’m asking you if you killed your father, Mr. Hale.” Brisbois tilted his head, the slightest smear of a smile crossing his face. “I rather think you did.” He threw open a document window on the right-hand screen, adjusting his jacket over his narrow shoulders. “What I really want to know is why. I think I know, but I’m sure I don’t understand the whole breadth and depth of the situation. It’d be best if you explain yourself.”

  At Brisbois’ accusation, the world stopped spinning, the momentum flinging me off into space. I couldn’t breathe, but I heard my heart beating hard against my breast and I wanted to throw up. It was too much, too much after everything else that had happened. Too much after my finding my father’s broken body, too much after Cadence’s revelations – too much to bear.

  “He was my father.”

  The inspector’s hands hovered over the input keys. “That’s your reason?”

  “No, that’s not my bloody reason!” All at once I rushed back into myself, the force alone carrying me onto my feet and towards Brisbois. I slammed my glass onto the desk and felt it crack, a small river of brandy flowing over my hand. “Are you insane? He was my father, you–you contemptuous little prick! He may have been a complete bastard, but he was my only family in the world! What reason, in all the stars above, could I have for murdering him?”

  “He was a complete bastard: a demanding, patronizing man who was hard to get along with, who was going to marry a woman whom you intensely dislike, and to whom he was expected to entrust much of his estate, new children or no, leaving you, I believe the expression is, tits-up in a snow drift, so please don’t tempt me to arrest you, Mr. Hale, by calling me names!”

  Brisbois was on his feet, face inches from mine. “I have witness statements,” he swiped a document onto the left-handed screen, “confirming that the door between yours and your father’s room was the only way in or out of the crime scene. Both hallway doors were locked from the inside and your father’s key was found directly under his body.” He moved another window onto the screen. “You were overheard joking with your good friend Mr. Henry Davers about hurrying your father into the grave just the day before!”

  “That is completely–!”

  “Your father’s will is missing!”

  My anger dissipated like snow in summer, leaving me with a lukewarm puddle of despair in the pit of my stomach. “What?”

  “Last week, your father traveled to District 12 and had his will voided. Told his solicitor he was making a new one. And the docu-disk on which he stored his own copy–” Brisbois snapped the drawer open and shut, “–is conveniently gone. Vanished. Probably destroyed.” He loosened the knot of his tie. “You’re going to pretend you had no idea about that either?”

  “This…” I stepped back, shaking my head, staring at the ground but seeing nothing. “This is a nightmare.”

  “It’s just beginning for you, Mr. Hale. The only reason you’re not in restraints right now is that I’m lacking the proper evidence.” There was a brusque rap at the door and Brisbois stood, striding towards it. “But once I find what I need, you’ll be spending the rest of your life in the Anteries Penal District, I promise you.”

  Brisbois yanked the door open and an EO officer stepped over the threshold. He whispered into Brisbois’ ear, garnering a nod from the inspector, who tossed his head back in my direction before walking out of the room.

  “Get him out of my sight.”

  I was bustled out into the hallway, where several servants pretended to not have been listening at the door, hurrying about their business. In a daze, I wandered into the entryway, feeling my way along the wall before succumbing to horror, collapsing against the plaster and sliding to the floor.

  Dr. Merton stood in front of the stairs several yards away, an EO officer at one elbow and Brisbois waiting at the other. The man’s eyesight seemed to be failing him further as he squinted and pulled the pad in his hands closer and farther away every few seconds. “I’m sorry, I can’t quite see where I’m supposed to– oh, oh yes, thank you.” He signed the screen in a flurry, handing it to Brisbois with a sigh.

  Brisbois and the EO officer hurried out the open front door, where I saw Cadence standing just inside, staring at me even though I had been oblivious to her presence. Even Merton hadn’t noticed her, jumping when he looked up to see her there. He was about to chastise her when he followed her line of sight to my crumpled form.

  “Mr. Hale?” He rushed over, crouching beside me. “Mr. Hale, are you alright?”

  A scrapping noise at the top of the stairs made us all turn to see a stretcher being pulled out of my father’s room, something bulbous and heavy weighing it down, hidden under a white sheet.

  Merton swallowed, turning back to me. “Here, come away. I just signed for the release of the body; they’ll be taking it now. Please, come outside. You need some air.” He attempted to pull me to my feet, but my muscles refused to perform their designated functions, and we had considerable difficulty getting upright.

  “Miss Turing, would you mind helping me, please?”

  Cadence ran towards us. The threat of her assistance was all the motivation I needed, waving her away as I pushed myself up onto my feet and leaned against the man at my side. She followed behind us as we struggled back to the dining room and out through the veranda doors. Everyone else was outside already, talking in hushed tones, and my ignominious appearance caused quite the stir.

  Henry took the steps up from the lawn two at a time and helped the doctor sit me down in a lawn chair. He knelt next to me, hand on my arm. “What is it? What did Brisbois say?”

  My hands shook as I slid them across my slick forehead, the words cracking over my tongue. “Oh god, Henry! He thinks I killed my father.”

  Everyone began talking at once. The din pounded at my aching head like a mallet against a drum. Henry collapsed into the chair beside me. “That’s absolutely ridiculous! How could he–?”

  “He’s certain.” I dropped my hands from my face, arms hanging limply off the side of my chair. “All he’s lacking is the evidence he needs to arrest me.”

  “And I will find it.”

  Brisbois’ voice sent an electric shock through me which racked every muscle. I twisted around in my seat, eyes bulging. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb with a grim smile. “We’re leaving now, ladies and gentlemen. We have all we need. I may be in touch over the next day or so to conduct follow up interviews, so please,” he gave a final wave before walking back inside, “no one leave this house.”

  His footsteps diminished. In short order, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the boots of other officers in the drive became audible, their PTs humming to life.

  “Now, Chance.” Belinda crouched beside me, tilting my face towards her. “Chance, darling, I don’t want you to worry. We all know you had nothing to do with this, nothing.”

  I looked around at the faces surrounding me and felt less than certain of this. My head fell into my hands.

  “I think he needs some time alone.” Merton gestured to the group. “We could all use some rest; it’s late.”

  One by one everyone passed me and went into the house, talking amongst themselves once more. Henry tapped the back of my chair. “Do you want me to stay?” I shook my head. His hand rose and fell, the vibrations tickling my back. “Alright. I’ll be in my rooms if you need me.”

  For a moment, there was nothing. But then, I felt it – felt her standing behind me, eyes fixed on me. I don’t know if there was something she wanted to say, something
she wanted me to say, or if she wanted to make sure there was nothing I needed. But she waited there for several long minutes, without touching me, without speaking aloud any sentiment or question.

  When Cadence left, I felt the hole of her there; and I almost, almost called out to her to come back.

  12

  Chapter 12

  The first furtive rays of light slipped past the linen curtains, illuminating my mother’s rooms with a dim glow. Turning over in bed, I clamped my eyes shut, but sleep had not and would not come, forcing me to face this first morning of a new world.

  I tried smothering myself with a pillow, confident that losing consciousness and sleeping were almost the same thing.

  After spending a few hours trying to get out of bed, even someone of my stubbornness had to admit defeat. Inside I had nothing left – no glib remarks, no chipper spirit equipped to battle the unthinkable event that had wiped me clean.

  Accepting failure seemed to be the key to the rest I had sought all through the fitful night and I fell asleep at last. Nightmares awaited me in the depths of my subconscious, visions of a hellish existence in prison and my father’s disappointed visage merging with Cadence’s driving me back to reality.

  I struggled awake and turned onto my side, groaning at the effort and rubbing my half-open eyes to banish the image of Cadence’s face. It was with a distressed bellow, a frenzied flailing of limbs, and a painful thump onto the floor that I realized I couldn’t rub her face away because it was there, lying on my pillow about an inch away from me.

  “Goddamn it, Cadence!” I started to stand but remembered that I was naked, sending me scrambling for some bed sheets with which to cover myself. “Why– What– Do you even–” I regained my mental and physical balance enough to jab a hand towards the door. “Get out of my room!”

  It hadn’t occurred to me that my sudden awakening might have frightened Cadence as much as it had me. She jumped up from the mattress when I fell, clambering off the bed, and was now cringing behind a large metal lid, held in front of her like a shield.

  “I brought you breakfast!”

  I looked down to see a silver cart at her hip, which had various meats, breads, and jams arrayed across it. There was also a pot of tea, steaming, which had been under the lid.

  “But you were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you because of everything that’s happened, and I’m sure you need your rest, but I also couldn’t just leave, so I was waiting for you to wake up.” Frowning, she dropped the lid onto the cart with a smack. “And don’t shout at me!”

  I held up a hand, the other still clutching onto my makeshift robe. “Alright, alright.”

  My head ached and the food looked fresh, so I scuttled over and helped myself to some toast, glaring as I chewed. A thought occurred to me, and I glanced back down at the cart. I hadn’t had breakfast in bed since I was a child, it being one of the many luxuries my father didn’t believe in, but even so, I couldn’t remember ever seeing a trolley like this being used for it.

  “How did you get this upstairs?”

  “The cart lift.”

  Sighing, I grabbed another piece of bread and sat on the mattress, tying the sheet tighter around my waist. “Why are you bringing me breakfast?”

  “Everyone else had already been down. I didn’t want you to miss out.”

  “Right. Now, why couldn’t you just leave the cart and go?”

  Cadence sat down next to me, hands falling into her lap. “I need to talk to you. I think I can help.” She stared at the floor, threading her fingers together and tapping them against herself. “With your father’s case.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to such an offer, so I took another bite of toast instead. After a few more moments of silence, Cadence turned to me, hands rising and falling in her lap. “Inspector Brisbois is certain you’re the murderer, yes?”

  My toast threatened to fight its way back up my gullet. I forced it down with a grimace, nodding.

  “I’m not.” She put her hands, still wound around each other, over mine. “I don’t think you did it at all.”

  I looked from her to her hands and back again, hopeful that this would signal my discomfort to her. “Why not?”

  “I’ve seen killers. They don’t look like you.”

  The bottom fell out of my stomach. Closing my eyes, I put the half-eaten bread on the bedside table. I had been trying not to think about what Cadence may or may not have seen or done in her escape from Whiston and the Archerusians who were so intent on destroying her kind. To have her shove her tragedy in my face with such calm left me with a sudden urge to hold her.

  I bared my teeth at her. “That’s very nice of you to say, dove, but the ‘I don’t look like a killer’ argument probably won’t sway the Inspector much.” Drawing back my hands, I stood, heading for the teapot.

  “That’s not how I can help!” She squirmed to the edge of the bed, smiling. “I can investigate! Or, rather, we can investigate. On our own! I have a lot of theoretical experience with mystery solving and crime and you’re not a complete idiot, so I thought you might like to try.”

  “Theoretical experience?” The dark brown liquid spilled into my cup as I scoffed. “You mean your book shop? That wasn’t another one of your lies?”

  There was a long pause. “No.” She fidgeted against the mattress, smoothing down the front of her skirt. “Well, not really; I didn’t sell them in the way you think. I was an entertainment installer. I would modify animanecron models with drives and programs and the like and then download leisure data into their systems – in my case, mystery novels.”

  “And this gives you experience solving crimes?”

  Her smile vanished, eyes narrowing at my unimpressed tone. “I have over ten thousand texts stored in my system, all accessible at any time, searchable and readable.” She stood, folding her arms across her chest. “Some of the most intelligent detectives in the world and their most challenging cases are in my head. I’ve been able to study their work at length over the last hundred and twenty years of my life and with that accumulated knowledge, I should be able to solve anything. In theory.”

  “No offense, Cadence, but I don’t really want your help.” A large gulp of tea burned its way down my throat, and I winced. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

  “I agree. But I am and I’d like to do something useful.” Cadence dropped her arms to her sides and shrugged, eyes flickering over me. “Besides, you’ve been kind to me. Invited me to stay in your home.”

  “I only did that because I wanted to bed you, ducky.”

  “Oh, I know.” She smiled, head tilting to one side. “But it was still kind.”

  The cup clattered onto the tray, splashing my hand with scalding liquid. Ever since I had found out what she was, I had been anything but kind; I knew that. But rather than hold a grudge, Cadence focused on all the good things about me, and I hated her for it. I didn’t want her to look at me as if she understood who I was when even I wasn’t sure.

  “Please. Leave.”

  Cadence took a step towards me. “But, I–”

  “Good god, just go!” It felt good to yell and I put even more power into the next shout, pouring all the anger and frustration and pain of the last few days out onto the person who deserved it the least. “I don’t want help from a talking calculator! I don’t need pity from something like you!”

  I grabbed her face with one hand and pulled her towards me, fingers pressing into her cheeks so hard they would’ve left bruises on real skin. “You’re a walking hunk of scrap metal. You don’t feel pain, you– you interpret data. You don’t understand what it’s like to be human, to have a heart; to have a father, let alone lose one!”

  “Don’t talk to me about loss!”

  Cadence ripped my hand from her face and shoved it into my chest, knocking the wind out of me. Collapsing onto the edge of the bed, wheezing, eyes watering, I still saw Cadence clear enough, her hair caught in the corner of her mouth, her lips trembl
ing, the lines of her face drawn taut in rage.

  “I’ve lost everything! My family, my friends; my whole world is being butchered by you hateful, empty monsters and you soulless things don’t even care!”

  She rubbed her palms against her cheeks in small circles. Screwing her eyes shut, her volume dropped as she regained some semblance of control. “I thought you were different. I thought you were a better man than your father, but I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Her hands fell from her face and she turned to leave. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

  I lunged at her, grabbing her arm before she could move any closer to the door. “Did…did you just get angry at me?”

  She shook me off with an exasperated cry. “I am angry at you, Chance!”

  I straightened up, blinking at her. “I didn’t think you could do that.”

  Cadence clasped her hands together, rubbing them against her forehead as she fumed. “Of all the stupid, close-minded–!”

  “What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

  “You do know that I’m five times stronger than you, yes? Since you seem to know everything about my kind.” I shrugged, an innocent gesture on my part that infuriated her further. “I would slap you, idiot! Hard!”

  I kissed her. Hard. I pulled her flush against me, sliding my hands under the hem of her flimsy white shirt, fingers roaming over her lower back while my lips fought for purchase against her own. She burned, like a tongue of fire.

  She could have thrown me across the room, but for all her rage she must not have wanted to do me any permanent harm. Prying me away, she jerked her head free from my kiss, and slapped me. With all the power she put behind it, it was more like a solid fist to the jaw, forcing me to hold on to her even tighter to keep upright.

  I pulled myself up and kissed her again, keeping my eyes closed and focusing on the sensations pulsing through me at this most intimate contact. My heart raced, and only partly from fear, and, with a last shudder, I let myself enjoy the moment as I would any other.